


now you’ve got me thinking you’re the one

by owenwilsonvevo



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, brian has a man bun AND a septum ring in this one, dont ask me why i do not know why i just felt like it was necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owenwilsonvevo/pseuds/owenwilsonvevo
Summary: He just met his soulmate. He thought God was punishing him for breaking a stained glass ashtray but really, the stars had aligned and he met his fuckingsoulmatein an ivy covered café at ten before nine in the morning.





	now you’ve got me thinking you’re the one

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this last night instead of sleeping because i got this idea from a tumblr anon and soulmate aus are crack to me so obviously i couldnt rest until it was written xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx enjoy!

Roger’s morning is unfolding so terribly that cruel, divine intervention is the only possible explanation. There’s a God and he’s punishing him for something. He hasn’t decided yet what he’s being punished for, but he’s thinking it might have something to do with breaking Freddie’s decorative ashtray. It was a stained glass thing he kept in the flat they both shared, and Freddie had decided it was too pretty for either of them to actually use it as an ashtray so they kept their keys in it instead. Yesterday, Roger had thrown it at the wall and it had broken apart into thousands of tiny, colourful pieces. He’s thinking maybe he’s being punished for it. Maybe Freddie breaking his favourite mug as retribution wasn’t enough.

At any rate, he slept through his alarm. He woke up late, and he woke up to find out their hot water had been cut off again. It’s their own fault, really, they can’t always afford to pay the bill, but this time they hadn’t been given any notice so it was still an extremely unpleasant surprise. When he’d been hurrying to get dressed, he’d found his favourite faux fur coat in Freddie’s room and it had adopted a very suspicious stain that made Roger think better about touching it. Then, in his rush to leave, his car wouldn’t start, which meant that he’d needed to take the bus. Again. The bus that stopped outside their flat went right to the school, which was convenient, but that meant it didn’t detour along the way to Roger’s favourite coffee shop. He wasn’t about to go to class without being caffeinated, but after getting off the bus the nearest coffee shop, just outside campus, is a horrible, hipsters’ wet dream of a thing.

Roger drags his feet as he pushes inside. It’s overgrown with ivy on the outside, and the inside is wallpapered with bad art in muted colours. There’s only one other customer and he’s tucked away in the corner, headphones in, tapping quickly at the keyboard of his laptop. He looks exactly like somebody that would hang out in coffee shops like this one. The music that’s playing is much the same, exactly the sort of music that Roger would expect, indie and twangy and not very good.

The only other person in the shop is behind the counter, hunched over the textbook he has propped open in front of him. He lifts his head as Roger walks up, and he looks every bit like somebody that would work behind the counter at an ivy covered coffee shop. His dark, thick hair is pulled into a messy knot at the back of his head and he has a shiny, silver septum ring through his nose. He has high cheekbones and sharp features and he flashes Roger a small, crooked smile across the counter. He very much isn’t Roger’s usual type, but there’s something about him that Roger finds immediately, strikingly attractive.

Now, normally, Roger’s pretty quick on his feet. He’s bad at a lot of things, and he’ll be the first to admit that, but he’s normally pretty good at flirting. He likes to do it, too, he likes the attention that comes with it, but it’s early, not even nine in the morning, and Roger hasn’t been caffeinated yet so in fairness he shouldn’t be expected to think, let alone speak coherently. As it is, the first thing out of his mouth is, “I don’t want coffee,” which is, to start, not even true.

Suddenly, the barista looks like Roger’s slapped him. His lips part slightly as he stares over the counter at him, for so long that Roger really starts to feel stupid. He considers braining himself on the counter, and he’s wondering exactly how hard he’ll have to hit his head to forget that this ever happened when the barista finally speaks. His voice is thick. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say now.”

Suddenly, he understands. Suddenly, he understands why the barista looks so panicked because he’s sure he looks much the same. He takes a quick step back, and then he‘s frozen in place but at the same time he thinks he might be shaking. He just stares at the barista and the barista stares right back.

“Fuck,” Roger says. He curls his fingers into his hands and turns away, rushing from the café without his coffee. He doesn’t go to his class, either, and instead jumps on the bus to take him back home, his ears ringing the entire ride back to the flat. He feels a little bit like he’s been struck by lightening, like there’s electricity crackling just beneath his skin. He shakes with it, and when he stumbles back into the flat it’s with clumsy, unsteady steps. He finds Freddie in the kitchen, hair pulled into a half knot as he prepares a travel mug of tea.

He looks up when Roger stumbles in, and looks only mildly surprised. “Back so soon, darling?”

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is shaking even worse than his hands. “I just met my soulmate.”

Freddie looks up so quickly he knocks his mug over and spills hot tea across the countertop. Neither of them move to mop it up. “ _What_?”

Roger sinks into a chair at the kitchen table, still feeling a little bit like his head is spinning. He just met his soulmate. He thought God was punishing him for breaking a stained glass ashtray but really, the stars had aligned and he met his fucking _soulmate_ in an ivy covered café at ten before nine in the morning. He’d just met the man that, divinely, he’s destined to spend the rest of his life with. There’s nobody better matched for him in the world, and Roger had just met him for the first time wearing fucking slippers, of all things. They’re Freddie’s slippers, and they’re pink. He just met his soulmate for the first time with damp, flat hair and pink slippers.

“He works at that coffee shop off campus,” he explains, and drops his head into his hands. “Bean Pole, or whatever.”

“Coffee Bean,” Freddie corrects.

“Who cares?” He scoffs. “I can never go back.”

Freddie clucks his tongue. “What did you do?”

Roger groans loudly into his hands. “I told him I didn’t want coffee and then I ran away.”

“You ran away?” Freddie asks. He doesn’t even pretend that he isn’t laughing at him. “ _Why_?"

“I don’t know,” Roger admits. Thinking back, he probably should’ve stayed, at least long enough to get his name before he left. As it stands, he knows where his soulmate works, and that’s all. He knows literally nothing else about him. “I panicked.”

“And ran away?” Freddie’s still laughing at him but there’s an edge to his voice, like he‘s surprised by how stupid Roger is. It’s unfair, really, because he’d known Roger since grade school and he’s pretty sure he’s always been exactly this stupid.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he protested. “I wasn’t prepared!” Freddie doesn’t know what it’s like. He’d met his soulmate, John, a few years earlier, and he hadn’t been expecting it, but he hadn’t been wearing pink slippers when it had happened, either. “I think I have to kill myself,” he decides.

Freddie pulls a chair out across from him and sits down, folding one of his legs beneath him. “Let’s call that our backup plan, dear,” he says. “What did you say after he said it?”

Roger still feels a little lightheaded. He’d known he had a soulmate, of course. He’d known since he’d been a kid and had first really noticed the words inked over his inner bicep. _I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say now_. The first words his soulmate would ever say to him. 

His mum had spent most of his childhood scandalized by his mark, and he’d always had mixed feelings about it. Sometimes, as a moody teenager he’d pictured his soulmate saying those words to him roughly and aggressively, furious with him. That would be the first thing his soulmate ever said to him, not the second or third, and what sort of pleasant conversation started with, _I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say now_? 

Except it wasn’t rough or aggressive or furious when he’d finally heard it. It was kind of flat, stunned, like’d been feeling the exact same sort of surprise that’s making Roger’s hands shake. He’d spent so much of his life hearing about soulmates, about what it all meant, about meeting this person that he’s destined to spend forever with, and it’s a bit terrifying. His whole, romantic life had been leading to that moment in the coffee shop, and Roger had run away.

He thinks about if it had been reversed. If he’d said his own bit, _I don’t want coffee_ , evidently, and his soulmate had turned and run away from his life as quickly as he had melted into it. He feels kind of ill, groaning into his hands again. “Nothing,” he admits. “I think I swore and then I left.”

Freddie laughs loudly. “You’re hopeless,” he says. “Was he cute?”

Roger drops his head onto the table. “Yes,” he says. “He’s tall.”

“And you ran away,” Freddie reminds him.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he huffs, lifting his head. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Not _run_ ,” he says. He rises from his chair again, helping Roger to his feet. “Come on, then. We’re going back.”

Roger jerks away so quickly he nearly trips over the chair. “What? I can’t.” He can never go back. His soulmate works there, but his soulmate’s first impression of him was pink slippers and his retreating back as he’d fled. Roger can’t ever show his face around him again.

Freddie rolls his eyes. “That’s not an option, darling,” he says. “You’ve already met him. He’s in your life now. There’s no going back.” 

“There is if I move,” Roger suggests.

He scoffs. “We both know you couldn’t afford rent anywhere without me, and I’m not moving. I’ve put so much energy into decorating this place. I can’t start again.”

“You love decorating,” Roger protests.

“I do,” he admits. “I also love that it’s only a three minute walk from here to Deaky’s. I’m not giving that up.”

Roger pushes his fringe back from his face. “He thinks I’m a bellend, Fred.”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, “because you ran away like a bellend. The only way you can make it up to him is if you go back.”

Roger looks away, at the tea cooling on the kitchen counter. “What if he doesn’t like me?” He asks quietly. Because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? That’s why his hands are shaking and why there’s a tight coil of anxiety in his chest instead of any sort of relief. He’s just met his soulmate, he’s supposed to be walking on air but instead, there’s something cold spreading through him, constricting, making it harder for him to breathe. Because what if he doesn’t like him? This person is destined to belong to him but that doesn’t mean he’s going to like Roger. Roger has a temper and a lot of bad habits and if today’s taught him anything, it’s that he’s a dumbass. What if his soulmate can’t look past it? What if he’s waited his entire romantic life to meet a man who takes a long look at Roger before he decides that he doesn’t want him?

“There’s always that chance,” Freddie agrees. “But he’s probably thinking something very similar right now, don’t you think? You literally ran away from him.”

The next pang in Roger’s chest feels uncomfortably close to being guilt. “I panicked,” he says again.

“I know that,” he agrees. “You just have to tell him that. But we need to get you cleaned up first. The slippers were a bad call.”

Roger exhales loudly, but Freddie’s right. He’s feeling shaky and scared and panicky and he’s the one that ran away. His soulmate’s probably not feeling any better. He changes out of his joggers and slippers into a tight pair of jeans and his boots. He lets Freddie run a flat iron over his hair before he changes out of his college sweatshirt into a softer, blue jumper, nearly the same colour as his eyes. Then they’re leaving the flat, climbing onto the bus again, and Roger’s heart starts beating so quickly he’s sure everybody else on the bus can hear it. He tries to take a deep breath, but his chest is tight, and there’s a sort of ache blooming in his palms by the time they finally climb off the bus just outside the Coffee Bean. It looks the same as when Roger had left it, chipped brickwork overgrown with vines of ivy. He waits for Freddie to push open the door, then follows him inside.

All things considered, not very much time has passed, but Roger’s still surprised to see the same single customer slumped in the corner, typing furiously. His soulmate’s still at the counter, hunched over his textbook again, but he looks up when the door opens. He takes a single look at Roger and something flickers across his face so quickly Roger can’t make out what it is. His expression shudders closed just as fast. He just kind of stares at Roger, and Roger stares right back until Freddie pointedly jams an elbow into his side. He hisses in pain but he gets the point, walking up the counter slowly, pressing his palms against the granite. He’s looking down, at his hands, when he says, “hi.”

The barista’s quiet for a moment. “Hi.”

Roger takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. He looks up from beneath his eyelashes, and the expression on his face shifts from being carefully blank, to mildly surprised, like he really hadn’t expected Roger to come back. Roger really hadn’t been planning on it, but for that second he’s glad that he did. “I left.”

This time, when the surprise fades, it’s replaced with something a bit warmer than stone cold indifference. “I noticed.”

“I’m sorry,” Roger says again. It seems a good a line as any. “I panicked.”

He sighs softly. “It’s okay,” he says. When Roger lifts his head, he offers him another small, crooked smile. “I kind of panicked, too.”

“You didn’t leave, though,” Roger points out.

He shrugs. “I might’ve, if I wasn’t on the clock.” Roger cracks a smile and his soulmate smiles back, wider, just as crooked. “I’m Brian.”

“Brian,” Roger parrots, and he likes the way his name tastes as he says it. He holds out a hand, and when Brian takes it, he likes that, too, his firm grip, his soft skin, his long, slender fingers. “Roger,” he tells him.

“Roger,” Brian repeats, and Roger honestly can’t tell if he’s mocking him or just trying his name on for size. He decides he doesn’t care so much. He just likes the way Brian sounds as he says it. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Nicer this time than last time?” He asks hopefully.

“You haven’t left yet,” Brian points out.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He pushes his fringe from his eyes, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

Brian smiles at him again, wide but still lopsided, pulled up higher at one corner of his mouth than the other. There’s something about it that Roger finds impossibly charming. “I’m sure you’ll think of some way to make it up to me,” he says. “Are you on your way to class?”

“Uh,” Roger says, glancing back at Freddie, who’s loitering by a table and pretending not to eavesdrop. He’s looking down at his phone, but Roger can see that the screen is black. “No,” he admits, looking back at Brian. “I was on my way the first time but I got a bit turned around. I think they’re going to have to get on without me today.”

He smiles again. “What do you study?”

”Biology,” he says. He looks down at his hands again, at the textbook open on the counter between them. “What about you?”

Brian smiles again and marks his page before he closes the book and lifts it up so Roger can see the front cover. “Astrophysics,” he says.

Roger feels entirely inferior for a moment. “Astrophysics?” He repeats.

Brian nods, tucking the book away under the counter. Roger isn’t sure what he was expecting Brian, with his septum clicker and messy hair and horrible, patterned button up to be studying but it definitely wasn’t astrophysics.

“I don’t think that’s what I was expecting,” he admits.

Brian grins, tongue pressed against his teeth. “I get that a lot,” he says. “You wouldn’t strike me as a biologist, either.”

Roger laughs, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I don’t know if it’s for me,” he admits. “I switched majors last term and I’m still not happy with it. I think I’m just trying to fill my time until the music thing works out.”

“That makes more sense,” Brian says, and Roger grins. “You’re in a band?”

He nods. “I’m the drummer,” he tells him, glancing back at Freddie again before he points him out to Brian. “That’s our lead singer.”

“Are you guys any good?” Brian asks.

”Individually,” Roger allows. Brian laughs loudly, and something warm and pleasant unfurls in Roger’s chest. He made Brian laugh and he kind of wants to preen. “We’re between guitarists right now,” he explains, “so our sound is kind of fucked up.”

Brian raises his eyebrows slowly. “What happened to your last guitarist?”

“Creative differences,” Roger says innocently. It had started out that way, anyway, but the band dispute had ended with Roger emptying a can of hair spray in his face and he really hadn’t appreciated it. “So if you know any strays that are looking to join a band, let me know.”

“I play guitar,” Brian says slowly.

Roger blinks a few times. “You’re lying,” he says. It seems almost too good to be true, but he isn’t sure why. If fate were ever going to drop a guitarist into his lap, it would be on the same day it had gifted him his soulmate. 

“I swear to God,” he says.

“Are you any good?” Roger asks.

“I’m a bit of a perfectionist, actually,” he tells him, and Roger can’t help the wide grin that unfurls quickly across his face.

“We were gonna get together later,” Roger says, tapping his fingers against the countertop, “if you wanted to swing by and see how we sound. If you don’t have a later class or something,” he adds, and Brian smiles again, a crooked thing.

“I’d like that,” he says, and Roger eases immediately. He holds out a hand. “Do you have your phone on you?”

Roger fishes it from his back pocket, thumbing it open quickly before he hands it Brian. He watches his long, slender fingers as he raps at the screen. When he hands it back, it’s open to his new contact, _Brian_ and a little coffee emoji. “Text me where, yeah? I have afternoon classes but I should be done by six.”

“Yeah,” Roger says, and he wonders if his grin is as wide and stupid as it feels. “Okay. Cool.”

The bell above the door sounds as somebody else, somebody that looks like they’d make the kind of art that’s hanging on the walls pushes inside. She walks over, stands a polite distance behind Roger, and Roger puffs his cheeks out again. “I guess I should probably let you get back to work,” he says.

Brian smiles, and takes one of Roger’s hands from the counter to brush a gentle kiss across his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight, then,” he says.

“Yeah,” Roger says, and clears his throat. “I’ll see you then.” He steps away slowly, letting the girl up to the counter as he walks back across the shop to Freddie. Freddie pockets his phone and takes his arm, leading him to the door, but Roger stops just before they push back outside to call over his shoulder, “bye, Brian.”

Brian looks at him from the across the room and grins, crooked. “Bye, Roger,” he calls, and Roger’s ears ring with the sound of his voice the entire bus ride home.

**Author's Note:**

> dont forget come find me on [tumblr](http://sweetheaert.tumblr.com)! im always taking prompts & requests so dont be afraid to hmu :^)


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